


Bleeding Heart

by NanakiBH



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Awkward Tension, Complicated Relationships, Drama & Romance, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Paranoia, Sexual Inexperience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 03:18:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16359707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NanakiBH/pseuds/NanakiBH
Summary: They were hemorrhaging, fading faster than the rest.





	Bleeding Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I'm dying to know what's going to become of Even in KH3... Til then, I'll just keep writing and praying that he survives the Nortening.
> 
> This takes place during 358/2 Days, sometime right before Chain of Memories. Sorry for being so melodramatic. (jk, not sorry.)

Zexion returned to the castle.

He completed his mission, flawless as always, but he returned in less than flawless condition, covered in scrapes and bruises. It was just supposed to be a reconnaissance mission. He kept his lexicon tucked under his arm as he made his tour around Twilight Town, but he hadn't expected to use it.

He got the sense that Xemnas didn't value him. Every member had a role to play, but the majority of his missions were more like patrols than anything else. His time was best served at the castle, in the lab, behind a book. He wasn't made for fighting. And Xemnas knew that. That was why Saix rarely sent him to deal with the Heartless.

His value was diminishing. With each slain Heartless, he watched it decrease, reduced by Roxas and Xion's keyblades.

It was unfortunate. He couldn't even bring himself to resent them. The fact that he was losing his place just meant that they were getting closer to everything they'd been striving for.

On his way back, he encountered an unexpected Heartless. It was too large for him to take on by himself, but he felt like he couldn't leave it there. It was foolish, but he fought it as if to prove to himself that he could do it alone. He defeated it, but not without difficulty. He couldn't confound a creature of the darkness with one of his illusions. While he attempted to dodge its relentless attacks, he frantically turned the pages of his lexicon, looking for the verse that would banish it.

It took him too long. Even with his illusions, he was vulnerable.

But he didn't feel afraid. He still didn't know what that feeling was like.

It was simple, he supposed. If he couldn't defend himself, he would die. Every living creature possessed the instinct of self-preservation. That was what made his pulse race, made him sweat when its claws tore through the back of his coat.

It was dangerous to let suspicion fester, but he couldn't help but wonder if they'd known about that Heartless and sent him there anyway. He didn't know for what reason they would do such a thing, though. Even if his combat capabilities weren't on par with the others, that didn't make him a hindrance. He wasn't stubborn – he was willing to stand aside if they wanted – so it had to be something else...

Something in his memory...?

It seemed naïve to think of any of them simply as Nobodies. Each of them had another face they hid, a past they pretended to not exist. Zexion wasn't stupid enough to believe that their decisions weren't being affected by the lives of their past selves. Even if he wanted to move forward as his own person, his borrowed memories formed the cornerstone of his being. If he felt affected by it, then there was no way that they weren't as well.

 

He couldn't come up with an answer by himself.

 

Enduring the ache of his healing injuries, he went to the usual place. He opened the door and entered the dim, white room, at once feeling put at ease by the familiar hum of the lab machines. Before he could take a seat, he was confronted by the one who had been waiting. Vexen was upon him as soon as he spotted him, looking down on him as he crowded him up against the door.

“Where in the world were you?” Vexen asked – _demanded_ , really. “I scoured the castle, calling for you. I made a fool of myself.”

Zexion glanced aside, finding it too unnerving to meet his demanding gaze. He didn't want to let him think he was weak, though, so he lifted his chin and stared back firmly, letting him know that his attitude was unnecessary. “No need to be so loud... I was on a mission.”

“You were supposed to be back already,” Vexen said, refusing to step back.

“Were you worried?”

“I was inconvenienced.”

Vexen certainly knew how to make a good comeback, but his comebacks were never very good at hiding his feelings. In his attempts to hide what he was thinking, he always unwittingly revealed more about himself than he intended. A part of Zexion told him that he should be offended by Vexen's cold-hearted choice of words, but he also found it easy to let it go, knowing that there was no heart in him to be cold.

Zexion nodded to himself as he slid out from between Vexen and the door. “Well, it's nice to know that at least one person around here values my presence.”

“Hm? Was that what I said?”

He might as well have, but Zexion wasn't going to be cruel and beleaguer the point. Vexen was sensitive and his feigning of ignorance was quick to become real aggression if he was pushed past his delicate limit. His nerves couldn't withstand too much testing. After spending so much time with him, Zexion felt like he knew where the balance was struck, but he couldn't always get it right.

It would've been nice if people were as simple to solve as equations, having definite right and wrong answers. As a Nobody, he lacked the sensitivity to understand the nuances of other people, even the ones without hearts – perhaps them especially. He always felt so far away. In those instances in which he was unable to find the right answer, he decided it was best to be quiet.

Their relationship was roughly the same as it had been in the beginning.

Zexion blamed himself for that. His lack of a heart and its subtleties.

 

As he went across the room to retrieve his report from the shelf to continue his work, he heard Vexen make a sound of surprise, prompting him to take a glance at him from over his shoulder. Vexen didn't approach. Zexion only caught the change in his expression; so slight, but he recognized the hint of feeling within it.

“Your coat...”

“It's fine,” Zexion said, placing a hand over his damaged sleeve. One hand wasn't enough to hide it all, though. The worst of it was on his back, where fresh cuts still stung. Once he took his folder from the shelf, he turned his back to the wall.

“It's unsightly, that's what it is.” Vexen's eyes narrowed. He strode to where Zexion stood and grasped him by the sleeve, assessing the damage for himself. “You can't work in this.”

“I'll have it replaced later. Don't let its unsightliness bother you.”

With a sudden gasp, Vexen pulled his hand away, staring at his fingers. He immediately returned his hand, widening one of the tears to look underneath.

“You're bleeding!”

Before he could even think about what he was doing, Zexion slapped his hand away. As soon as he realized what he did, he stepped back, putting himself out of Vexen's reach.

He didn't fear retaliation, but he was afraid of something.

It wasn't Vexen's temper he was afraid of.

He just didn't want to upset him.

“It's nothing,” he said. For some reason, he found it difficult to raise his eyes from the floor. “I already cast healing magic on myself.”

“You should return to your room. I don't want you here in this condition.” With that said, Vexen returned to the place where Zexion first found him, resuming his work, dismissing him without another word.

 

“No.”

 

“No?”

 

He couldn't. He couldn't just leave and watch the value of his presence depreciate further. For all he knew, the Superior and their supervisor were conspiring to some other effect, but he didn't know what. He was flawless. He did everything they asked of him, perfectly. Even if it was all just paranoia fostered by his suspicions...

“You need me here, don't you?”

Vexen appeared to be taken aback by his refusal to leave. Or maybe it was something else. Even Zexion noticed the uncharacteristic unsteadiness in his own voice.

“Fine. Stay. Just don't bleed on anything.”

He received his permission to stay, but Zexion didn't feel relieved. He wasn't acting like himself. Something was strange. He felt like he was acting like a stubborn child – even though he didn't personally know what it was even like to be a child. The childhood in his memory belonged to his old self. He was still hollow inside, just a shallow reflection of the person he used to be.

At the least, he should have taken care of himself before returning to the lab room. He should've known that Vexen would scold him for his appearance and lecture him over his unattended injuries. Saix usually sent him on reconnaissance missions because of his observational skills, and yet he hadn't even been able to spare himself that much foresight. That didn't bode well for anything else he could have been ignoring.

“So how did that happen?” Vexen asked, breaking the silence. “I thought your mission was reconnaissance today.”

“It was. I ran into a type of large Heartless I haven't dealt with before as I was on my way to RTC,” Zexion explained, absently flipping through the sheets in front of him, unfocused.

“What were you thinking, taking it on by yourself? The whole purpose of reconnaissance is to gather information that the rest of us can use. You should've returned and left it for someone else.”

As if he didn't know that. Even if Vexen was actually concerned, Zexion wished that he wouldn't go so far out of his way to cover it with condescension. His attitude wasn't helping matters. His act just made him stubborn and defensive.

“Axel surveyed the same spot yesterday.”

“What are you implying? That he omitted the Heartless from his report and left it there to get you?”

A response was ready at the tip of Zexion's tongue, but he closed his mouth and decided to think for a moment before he accidentally let himself act rashly again. Without any evidence to support his thinking, he would've sounded crazy.

Slowly, he set down the things he was holding. He lifted a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.

“...Do you think I sound paranoid?”

“Yes. I do.”

Zexion shook his head. With a sigh, he found a chair. Once he sat down, he suddenly noticed the weight of his mental fatigue. “I don't know how I feel about him. He wasn't one of us.”

“'One of us'?” Vexen repeated, giving him a skeptical look. “Of course he's one of us. What are you talking about?”

“He wasn't with us back then – back when it was just you and me, Dilan and Aeleus, and Master Ans-”

“Zexion.”

Reluctantly, he raised his head to look at him.

“Zexion,” Vexen said again, as if he were reminding him of his own name. He didn't appear to be angry, but his voice was stern. “Who do you think you are? Never mention those names in front of me again.”

“I guess this means that you and I think of our memories differently. I can respect that. However... I hope you don't assume that everyone here shares your position.”

Vexen gave him a sardonic smirk. “I don't. I don't think that there's a single person here who's discarded the memories of who they used to be. It was because of those memories that we were even able to attain human forms in the first place, so it stands to reason that their presence would be permanent and perhaps even _essential_ to our existence. Without hearts and emotion, there's no question that those memories are what pull our strings... But to what degree?”

Zexion hung his head. “My apologies. I see you've thought about this, too”

“Of course.”

Still, it was clear that they didn't feel the same way.

His other self was gone. He was all that was left. As far as Zexion was concerned, he rightfully took possession of the memories his other self left behind. There was never a point at which he felt like he became someone else. His name changed and his heart vanished, that was all. Even though he understood why Vexen would rather think of himself as a new person, Zexion couldn't relate to that desire. He understood. But it sounded too difficult.

He didn't want to believe that Vexen would want to ignore their past.

He didn't want to be forgotten.

It wasn't meaningless. Even if Zexion kept his thoughts to himself, he chose to continue entertaining his memories, keeping them alive inside his chest. Until they achieved their goal, his memories were the closest thing he had to a heart.

Vexen was shaken by them. The distance between them was about the same as always, but Zexion imagined him trembling with the effort it took to reject the thing that powerfully fought to overtake him. The more he resisted his memories, the weaker he became. It was a special kind of weakness – a tenderness that none of the others seemed to possess. In a way, he wished that Vexen would stop resisting, to let his memories harden around him.

That part of him couldn't be hidden. It was already practically overflowing. Zexion didn't want to see anyone take advantage of it. He knew they would.

 

He sighed.

 

“Hm? What's that?” Vexen said, crossing his arms with a scowl. “What are you sighing about? Do you have a problem with something I said?”

“That's not it.” His thoughts were too many. Even if he wanted, he couldn't put them into words, knowing that they would just upset him more. “I think I might just be a little more tired than I realized.”

A comeback didn't come. Vexen just looked at him. Even his expressionless stare somehow conveyed a certain emotion. Zexion wanted to touch it, but it moved away the moment Vexen broke eye contact. “Are you sure you don't want to call it a day? It isn't a problem,” he said.

Zexion touched his torn sleeve. “No,” he said. It wasn't that painful. “I told you already.”

 

The silence and the once again widening distance...

 

It was just an excuse, blaming their lack of hearts. They had everything they needed to close the distance. They chose to be weak. It was becoming their nature.

 

They worked quietly. Having found his resolve, Zexion was able to regain his focus. It was as though their conversation hadn't happened, the charged atmosphere dissipating without a visible trace, leaving them as they always were. Only the slight sting beneath the rips in his coat reminded Zexion that something was different from usual.

Vexen was transparent. Zexion felt no suspicion around him. And yet, he found himself watching him from the corner of his eyes, following the movements of his hands, watching his gloved fingers. Vexen must have noticed him looking, but he didn't comment. His silence was an invitation.

“When we're finished, may I come to your room?”

“What for?” Vexen asked. His question fell away and gave way to some type of realization when he looked in Zexion's direction.

There was a certain feeling Zexion wanted to convey, but he didn't understand it well enough to even imitate it. He just looked at him. He didn't know what sort of look he had on his face. There may have been nothing. But Vexen seemed to understand.

Vexen nodded mutely, tugging on the collar of his coat.

“Wh-... What are you smiling for?” he stammered.

Zexion tilted his head and looked at him curiously. “Am I? I wasn't aware.”

Vexen made a face and turned his back, pushing his things a little farther down the table. “You're so unsettling...”

 

The quietness returned, more comfortable.

Zexion couldn't call the two of them friends. Yet, when he recalled the past, the word 'friends' seemed to leap to his tongue when he thought about Even and the others. He couldn't figure out whether he'd always thought of them that way. It couldn't have been a development that occurred after he became a Nobody. After all, 'friends' were something only someone with a heart could have.

That was what he told himself, anyway.

He just hated to think that he might have taken something for granted.

 

With nothing better to do, Zexion was always willing to stay in the lab for as long as Vexen remained. When Vexen left in the evening, he would take that as his cue to return to his room as well.

But, that evening, he wasn't going to return to his own room. He'd never been in Vexen's room before. He figured that something would have to happen if he went there. He hoped that the proximity would force Vexen to confront the things he was trying to cover up.

After Vexen returned his things to where they belonged, he turned to him.

“So. Do you still plan on following me?”

“I made no such assertion,” Zexion said. “I'll only follow you with your permission. If I recall correctly, you were the one who gave no reply to my request.”

That request had already pushed Vexen out of his element. He seemed willing to give his permission, but sounding agreeable was a terrible challenge for him.

Feigning irritation, Vexen huffed and turned up his nose. “Do as you wish,” he said.

Somehow, he still found a way around the words. Zexion was a little impressed by his stubbornness. A simple 'you may' would have sufficed. His vague, reluctant-sounding reply was better than nothing, though.

 

Vexen's room had the same atmosphere as the lab. The silence was occupied by the quiet sounds of a computer's idle processes. There were books everywhere, surprisingly less neat than in the lab. Zexion avoided stepping on any as he followed him into the room.

When Vexen stood in the center of the room, he stopped and turned toward him. Placing his hands on his hips, he looked down at Zexion with a stare that analyzed him. He seemed to be waiting for him to speak, but Zexion didn't know what to say. He couldn't even rightly explain what he was doing there.

“I must ask again. Why are you here?”

“Restlessness.”

His real reason was too abstract and would have required patience that he knew Vexen didn't have.

For another moment, Vexen continued to look at him, trying to extract a reason from him. Zexion let him draw his own conclusions. It was easier that way.

“Take off your coat,” Vexen said. When he saw the way Zexion's shoulders stiffened, he rolled his eyes. He marched over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, directing him to sit on the bed. “I have a first aid kit,” he explained.

As Zexion watched him retrieve the kit, his hands moved slowly to the zipper pull of his coat.

His pulse was quickening.

By the time Vexen returned with the kit in hand, Zexion had already removed his coat and set it aside, meticulously folded at the corner of the bed. His hands had moved automatically. He couldn't remember doing it. His attention had been focused on the shape of Vexen's back, the width of his shoulders. He didn't know why, but his eyes enjoyed the sight of him, and knowing that the two of them were truly alone, unlikely to be interrupted...

Excitement?

It was some approximation of the feeling.

That response hardly seemed reasonable, but he wasn't sure what he should have expected. He was just following his memories where they led him. The path wound around Vexen. It brought them toe to toe.

Zexion moved himself to the middle of the bed, sitting with his legs folded under him, hands on his knees. He kept his back straight as Vexen sat down behind him with the first aid kit. Zexion listened as it was opened, as Vexen looked through its contents and found what he needed. He issued no warning before touching one alcohol-soaked swab to one of the cuts on his back.

“ _Nngh!_ ”

Even if he'd been prepared, Zexion suspected that he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from groaning at the first touch.

“Hurt?” Vexen asked.

“What do you think?”

Vexen chuckled.

He wasn't especially gentle. He pressed a little more firmly than Zexion would have liked, but he was just being thorough. A few of the cuts ran too deep to be healed with magic. They had to be cleaned, and it was just easier for someone else to help. Vexen was methodical and professional; exactly what Zexion expected. He was the only person he could trust to do the job and do it well.

For someone with command of ice, his fingers were surprisingly warm. It was as if he was pointedly trying to avoid touching him with his hands, only making contact with the cool swab, but whenever his fingertips made contact with his skin, Zexion took notice.

The pain gradually became duller. The marks across his back only lightly throbbed. As Vexen worked his way from his back to the cuts on his arms, Zexion found his eyelids getting heavier, found himself slowly slouching forward. That sort of uncommon display of care was one of the things he went there for. It wasn't an expectation. Only a hope.

A few bandages were placed. Here and there.

 

“Once you have a heart of your own, what do you plan to do?” Zexion asked.

“Nothing different. I'll continue doing what I've been doing; satisfying my own scientific curiosity,” Vexen said, his words punctuated with the snapping of the kit's closure. “And you?”

“Just the same.”

He couldn't imagine things being any different. He'd been together with Vexen and the others for nearly as long as he could remember. There was a wall in his memory when he reached back farther, beyond a certain point. Something traumatic may have caused him to forget, or maybe those memories simply hadn't been passed over to him when he became a Nobody. Either way, it didn't matter. He had all the memories he needed.

Vexen got up to return the kit. “You wouldn't know what to do without me, would you?” he said, a grin visible on his profile. “I don't know whether I should be flattered.”

By the sound of it, he was most certainly flattered. Zexion's chest warmed.

 

He wondered what he was thinking.

He wondered if they were on the same page.

If he kept following the path of memories that circled Vexen, he was going to end up entangled with him. It was beckoning him, drawing him nearer, and he didn't have the heart to resist.

 

Vexen returned and sat down beside him.

The moment he turned, Zexion leaned in and pressed their lips together.

That was all it was, just his mouth against Vexen's. He'd never kissed anyone before. He wasn't even sure if he meant for it to be a kiss. He just knew that if he kept getting closer to him, then, at some point, they were bound to merge in some way. That collision was the beginning of their convergence.

When he drew back, Vexen sucked in a breath and attempted to speak.

“Ienzo-”

Zexion put a finger to his lips to silence him.

“Never say that name in front of me again.” He smirked. It felt satisfying to send those words back at him. “If you want to pretend like you have nothing to do with the things in your memory, then you should be able to look at me and see that I'm not a child.” He glanced down at his bare chest, his mature body, and flicked his eyes back up. “ _Ienzo?_ Who's that?”

Vexen showed him a slightly bitter smile. “Things have changed.”

“Not really. Not everything,” Zexion said, leaning against him. He wanted him to know that he'd thought of him uniquely for some time. A moment like that had been a long time in the making.

Hesitantly, Vexen lifted a hand and ran the tips of his fingers over Zexion's exposed collarbones and over his shoulder, testing the yield of his skin beneath his fingers. The castle bred a sense of isolation between its white walls. They'd spent such a long time there, rotting inside. It was deceptively easy for them to ignore their stagnation. They got used to the silence and the numbness.

 

The touch of another person inspired a remarkably familiar feeling.

 

He wanted to kiss him again...

But Vexen turned his head aside.

 

“You don't want to?” Zexion asked, calmly sliding a hand over the back of Vexen's neck, subtly encouraging him to look at him. He kept his face close, interrupting his space.

Vexen was easy to bully when he was embarrassed. He was so soft, and only getting softer.

Wordlessly, with his eyes lowered, Vexen moved a little closer. That was as far as he went, just shy of putting their lips together, waiting. Looking at his lowered lashes and his tightly pursed lips, Zexion was suddenly hit by a wave of reality. He tried to close the distance like he had before, but he couldn't get his body to move.

Vexen glanced up, eyes gleaming.

“What's the matter? Not feeling up to it now?”

Gripping the back of his neck, Zexion kissed him again just to get rid of the smug smirk on his face. It was successful. Neither of them knew what they were doing. They were both nervous and anxious. But those sensations, of course, were just natural responses to the tension of the situation. They were acting accordingly.

It was exactly what Zexion had been waiting for; a natural disruption of the ordinary they'd grown complacent of.

He stroked his hand over the back of his neck to ease away Vexen's tension just as much to ease his own. Everything had been pulling them tighter and tighter until it brought them together. It would have been overwhelming if Zexion hadn't already accepted its inevitability.

 

The feeling of their lips against each other, much softer than expected...

The warmth of their skin...

 

It wasn't going to be enough.

 

Just when he thought that he'd found what he wanted, he realized that it would still be insufficient. They were still just pretending. No matter how closely they pressed themselves together, they didn't have a single heart between them.

Zexion stopped abruptly, parting from Vexen with a shuddering breath.

Vexen spoke matter-of-factly. “Nobodies instinctively seek the thing they're missing in order to fill the void. And, in lieu of real emotion, we imitate. Whatever it is you want... isn't here.”

Despite what he said, his voice sounded nostalgic in a way that made Zexion ache.

“I can settle. An imitation is fine for now.” Steeling his nerves, he reached over and slipped his hand underneath Vexen's coat, placing his hand over his lap. He pressed down softly, letting him feel the heel of his palm. “Will you show me your best?”

He already was.

Vexen's eyes darted skittishly from Zexion's eyes to his hand, then back up again. His response was just a simple, stuttering nod. His brow glistened with a light sweat.

Zexion devoured his display. It was contagious. Once it was inside of him, he noticed that his breathing also began to change. His skin felt heated. A strong impetus pushed him forward, driving him to seek the feeling of skin on skin. As their lips reconnected, Zexion leaned his weight against him, gradually pressing him down until Vexen's back hit the bed. He moved his hand between his legs, loosely groping, and was pleased to feel him responding.

His expression was nice... His eyes were closed, his lips fixed in an unsteady line. If Zexion didn't know better, he would've thought Vexen hated it. His precious ego was the only thing suffering.

When he let go of him, an undignified noise slipped from Vexen's lips. He instantly put a hand over his mouth, horrified by his lapse of self-control.

“Don't worry. I won't tell anyone,” Zexion promised.

“D-Don't let it get to your head! It didn't mean anything!”

“Mm-hmm...”

He wasn't convinced. Vexen's indignant scowl started to soften as soon as Zexion teased his fingers along the waist of his pants. Within moments, his eyes were closed again and he was gripping the sheets beneath him in anticipation. Zexion got the feeling that he was in a privileged position. As much as Vexen acted like he was suffering, he would've never let any of the others see him that way.

Zexion was kind of honored.

He had to go easy on him. He didn't want to scare him off after finally getting him where he wanted.

He carefully unfastened Vexen's pants as he kept him distracted with a kiss. Once he was able, without leaving his lips, he slipped his hand underneath and wrapped his fingers around him.

“H-Hold on! Wait!” Vexen said suddenly, pushing him back, forcing Zexion to stop touching him.

“What is it?”

“You, too. I can't be the only one. It's... It would be unfair, wouldn't it?”

Zexion nodded agreeably. Straddling him, he handled it himself, unfastening his pants, pushing them over his hips just enough to free himself. He was already a little hard just from kissing. He tried to do the same for Vexen, but Vexen took care of it before he could touch him.

Zexion's mind temporarily went blank as he stared at his cock.

It was a bit bigger than he imagined...

He hadn't even realized that he had an expectation...

Vexen nudged him in the arm. “W-Would you stop staring and get on with it?”

“What should I do?”

“You're clueless, aren't you?” He sighed loudly. “It doesn't matter. Just... _do_ something.”

Still sitting over Vexen's thighs, Zexion looked down at him, taking a moment to appreciate the sight beneath him. The image of Vexen with his face flushed and his pants pulled down to his thighs was going to stay in his mind for a good while. Maybe forever. Zexion liked it quite a bit. He felt rather proud.

He had him in a vulnerable position. ...And he didn't know what to do with him.

To start with, he grabbed the bottom zipper of his coat and pushed it up a little ways, revealing more skin. Unconsciously, he sucked in a breath. His hips shifted on their own, wanting to move. Vexen's hands released their grip on the sheets and moved to his thighs. With measured movements, Zexion used one hand to press their members together.

“Th-... This is sort of nerve-racking,” he muttered.

“It was your idea.”

Zexion started moving his hand. He felt the heat spreading from his cheeks to his neck. His eyelids fluttered.

“Yes,” he said, voice quiet, dazed. “It was a good idea, don't you think?”

Vexen didn't answer, but his answer was clear in the way his fingers gripped Zexion's thighs.

The insistent pounding of his pulse reminded Zexion of his encounter with the large Heartless, but he still wasn't afraid. He was the exact opposite of afraid. He was in a situation of his own choosing. It wasn't just nerve-racking – it was _thrilling._

“Vexen, thank you for indulging my whim,” he said, loosely moving his hand around them. It felt good, but his hand wasn't enough. Deciding to follow where that thrilling feeling wanted to lead him, Zexion rocked his hips, rubbing the underside of his cock along Vexen's. His cock throbbed, a bead of precum already collecting at the tip. He swiped it away with his thumb and rubbed it over the head of Vexen's.

It felt like he was doing more than satisfying a physical urge. He could sense the raw, unrefined core of an emotion.

He moved a little faster, rocking upward into his fist. His movements weren't always perfect. As he kept going, they only seemed to become more sloppy. It wasn't an easy position for him to hold. As more precum leaked from the tip, he slipped out of his grasp more than once, accidentally nudging his cock against Vexen's hip.

He was just glad that Vexen didn't make any smart comments about it. By the look of things, he would've been incapable of commenting anyway. He'd lifted one of his arms to cover his face, but Zexion could still see the quivering of his lips. Placing a hand down on his chest, Zexion leaned over him and kissed him. For a few seconds, Vexen's breath stalled, then he lifted his arm, letting Zexion see his eyes.

He glowered. “This position is humiliating.”

Zexion suddenly found himself being grabbed by the waist and tossed to the bed. He landed next to Vexen who pulled him over, aligning their bodies at the hip. He could see how their new position was more convenient and comfortable, but he wouldn't have called it less embarrassing. His chest was pressed up against Vexen's, his nipples rubbing against the warm leather of his coat.

He bit back another groan, reminded of the healing cuts on his back.

“Careful,” he quietly warned.

“I know. I'm the one who bandaged you, remember? Sleeping might be difficult, too. Staying on your side will help.”

Ah, the rare sound of Vexen's concern...

Zexion decided to give him another kiss for that. He teased the seam of his lips with his tongue and seized his mouth as soon as he parted his lips. Putting an arm around his waist, Zexion pulled himself closer and threaded one of his legs between Vexen's, entangling them. He slipped his other hand between their bodies to guide their cocks together as he began to move again. It was a lot easier that way – and a lot less embarrassing. As long as they were kissing, they didn't have to suffer the nerves that came with eye contact.

Zexion moaned softly and felt Vexen moan against lips in return. He took that as a sign that he was doing it right.

Just like that, with heat accumulating between them, the chilly white atmosphere around them melted away. The small room vanished and became like a different place, filling Zexion with a feeling he could only vaguely recall in the depths of his farthest memories. It was right there. He didn't even have to reach out for it. It just came to him, softly.

“Ev-...”

Fingers threaded through his hair, cradling the back of his head.

The green eyes in front of him looked so clear.

“Yes?”

Holding him tightly, Zexion moved his hand faster and hid his face against Vexen's shoulder. He wasn't surprised by the reactions of his body, but he felt something else, too. He _felt_ something. His mouth opened as if to gasp, as if to say something, but his ears couldn't hear. Everything disappeared from his mind for a few moments as lights erupted behind his closed eyelids.

He breathed out. He kept moving his hand, easing them both down gradually, teasing out the last lingering embers.

Afterwards, he laid there for a little, feeling tired.

When he sat up and looked at the mess on his hand, he didn't feel as awkward as he expected. Vexen hastily fixed himself and left the bed, returning a second later with tissues to clean them.

With a frown on his face, Vexen gave a long, anguished groan. “Ah, what have I done...”

Zexion chuckled under his breath. His tattered coat was all he had to wear, so he unfolded it and put it back on. As he zipped up the front, he consciously made an attempt to show Vexen a smile.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Vexen. Try to have a good night.”

 

He quickly left before Vexen could think of anything to say.

 

There was no one in that castle worth trusting. But he trusted Vexen, as foolish as that made him. And he was probably going to have reason to regret it someday. But he wouldn't regret.

 

As he walked down one of the castle's long hallways, over his footsteps he heard the sound of his past self, calling to him from the future.


End file.
